


Every Time I think of You

by Skasha



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Enemies to Friends, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, background f!Hawke x Merrill x Isabela, pre-fenders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skasha/pseuds/Skasha
Summary: Through a series of events Fenris is forced to consider Anders and Justice’s relationship, how he relates to the two of them, and what he’d like his relationship with them to be.It would be so much easier for Fenris to just continue to think of Anders and Justice as monsters. Simpler too. Buteasierdoesn’t necessarily meantrue.Simplerdoesn’t always meanbetter.





	Every Time I think of You

**Author's Note:**

> Back when I was still active in this fandom I was talking to a friend about one of the issues I have with Fenris. Specifically the first time you take him to the Gallows. Personally I think it's **wildly** out of character for a former slave to look at what's going on at the gallows and just not care. Or at least it's out of character for a character we the audience are supposed to want to support and empathize with. It's kind of the reason I usually consider fenders a crack ship. My friend wanted to know what it would take for me to _not_ consider it a crack ship. *gestures to this fic*

The first time it happened they were at The Bone Pit. 

Anders was thrown by a dragon into a pile of rocks and knocked unconscious with a sickening thunk. Justice sprang forward to defend his friend along with the rest of their group, a sword and shield of ethereal light in hand and the scent of ozone after a storm trailing wherever he ran. Fenris didn't have time to panic at the sudden appearance and... and they fought well together? Each blocking and striking out with attacks the other missed, the two warriors blending together in the fight as though they had choreographed it.

And then just as suddenly as the fight had begun the dragon lay dead. Justice stood looking over the creature with his head tilted to the side, his expression unreadable. Fenris blinked and the sword and shield of light was there one moment and then gone the next leaving behind the strangely glowing man wearing the mage's face like a mask. The late afternoon light and brilliant blue spirit fire tinged everything soft and almost surreal. 

Generally it was usually just as loud after a fight; Isabela and Marian's ruckus laughter mixed with Merrill's quieter tones while Anders or Varric (or both) said something bawdy. But instead everyone was quiet, eerily so. It seemed to take Justice a moment to realize that the whole group was looking at him.

Marian recovered first and coughed lightly into her gloved fist, "Ah... Justice I presume?"

Justice inclined his head towards her, the spirit’s voice had a strange almost echoing quality to it. A voice that did not belong to Anders despite him using the mage’s form. _"Unless another spirit has taken up residence with my friend when neither of us was looking."_ He said blandly though his lips twitched at his own joke.

Fenris surprised himself when he snorted out a laugh and avoided looking at Varric who was suddenly watching everything even more intently.

Justice glanced at Fenris and flashed -literally- a brief smile at him before turning back to Marian serious once more. _"I apologize for the intrusion. Anders was knocked unconscious and I didn't want him to get trampled. I-"_ he paused and blinked for a moment before his posture relaxed, _"Good. He's waking up."_ The light faded and blue eyes became warm brown.

Anders slumped to his knees with a bewildered expression, "What in the void happened?"

The second time it happened was actually later that night in Fenris' tent. 

Or rather, the tent he and Anders shared.

Varric always snored loud enough to put a congested dragon to shame, meaning that no one ever wanted to share a tent with him, if not for that he'd be sharing with the dwarf. 

Or he might have tried to stay with Hawke or the pirate, or void, even the witch. But the three women had recently become involved. All three of them. At the same time. Together. Which could _almost_ be intriguing, except that Hawke had made it explicitly clear some years ago that she was a lesbian and didn't like men "that way" as she'd put it. 

So instead Fenris lay in his bed roll ramrod stiff and clutching the covers up to his chin despite the sweltering summer heat. His lips were set in a thin line as he frowned at the oilcloth ceiling of the tent as though it had done to him grievous harm.

The mage was glowing. 

Softly. But still glowing.

Which meant the _demon_ was present.

Granted he was always present. One of the more bizarre side effects of Fenris' lyrium tattoos was the ability to see the non physical. Judging by the shadows in the tent that light would probably be visible to everyone and not just Fenris. It seemed to be a common occurrence when the mage slept if their few forced evenings together were anything to judge by. He was always aware of the spirit's presence. Or any other spirit for that matter. The mansion still held a few indignant dead slavers that just would not _leave_. Which was the real reason he left the building in such disarray and corpses left to rot. After all, what better way to add insult to injury than to force his attackers to witness their corpses slowly decompose. 

Most of the slaver ghosts had gone... well. Wherever spirits _went_, but there were still three left, too stubborn to leave. One of them had taken to haunting the larder. He was used to that sort of thing at this point.

And in Tevinter he'd seen his fair share of demons. Some of the magisters liked to experiment putting demons into the less useful slaves to study the results for one reason or another. Hadriana in particular had enjoyed the practice. She'd... she'd never kept her slaves long, and had been constantly buying more from the market when she wasn't running errands for Danarius.

Danarius had enjoyed watching her experiments. Fenris being his bodyguard had been forced to watch as well.

But he'd never seen something like Anders. 

His skin seemed perfectly intact, scars yes, but no hideous mutations, and -as far as Fenris had seen- no rampages or killing sprees. Instead the mage spent all his time and coin trying to heal his way through Darktown. If not for the occasional adventure with Hawke the man would likely never see daylight. He never seemed to rest. 

The puzzle of _what exactly_ Anders and this so called "Justice" had become would almost be intriguing if he wasn't always going on and on about mages and templars. It wasn't as though Fenris spent time pondering the situation, not much really, he stubbornly told himself.

His eyes flicked to the still form next to him and then back to the ceiling. 

Well. 

Fenris shifted in his bed roll; slightly uncomfortable within his own mind as he started to realize just how often the mage and his spirit occupied his thoughts. He hastily reasoned to himself that it was perfectly **normal** to spend at least a _little_ time trying to figure them out. An enigma had been presented and when things were said and done the elf had always had a deep fondness for puzzles and solving them. 

That the enigma in question came in such a pretty package was just a side note, he huffily told himself before he blanched when he realized that he had just called the abomination “pretty” in his mind. Since when did he think they were pretty?

_"Isn't it a bit hot out to be bundled up in blankets like that?"_ Justice asked quietly.

Fenris scrambled and flailed out of the blankets and bed roll in record time, practically flinging himself into the corner of the tent, his heart hammered almost painfully, and lyrium lines lit ready for a fight.

Justice propped himself up onto his elbows and blinked at him, _"Are you quite alright?"_

"You!" Fenris shouted.

_"...I...?"_ Justice shrank back slightly.

"You, You!" Fenris jabbed a finger out in the spirit's direction for emphasis. He realized he was hyperventilating and tried to slow his breathing.

Justice tilted his head in curiosity and shrank back a little further, _"Is this normal behavior for mortals? Should I... do you require aid?"_

“No I don't '_require aid_' what are you doing talking?!?”

Blond eyebrows went up at that, _“I was bored. You kept glancing at Anders and I several times since the others went to bed. I assumed you wished to speak.”_

“Bored?!” Fenris flung his hands in the air for emphasis, “You decided to scare me half to death because you are **bored**? Leave me in peace and go to sleep!” he snarled.

Justice frowned, _“Sleep is a requirement of mortals, of which I am not. Even if I am riding inside of one at the moment that is still not something I am capable of.”_ he slumped and added quietly, _“If I could follow my friend back home into the Fade I would.”_

That gave Fenris pause.

_“I apologize for startling you.”_ Justice lay back down with that and rolled onto his side giving the elf his back. 

Fenris didn’t move from his spot for a long time. The quiet inside the tent was deafening and only momentarily broken by the sounds of the occasional night bird or Varric’s snores from the other side of the camp. Eventually Fenris let the light fade from his markings. He left the tent to go sit by the fire with a heavy twisting feeling in his gut that he refused to acknowledge as guilt. Unable to sleep, he waited for sunrise and thought.

The third time it happened was at the Gallows. 

Marian was running errands for an herbalist. The one that worked the _Gallows_ of all places. 

One would think that if things in the circles were really as bad as Anders and Marian and Merrill all claimed then they would take measures to avoid the place seeing how the three of them were in fact _mages_, he thought to himself stiffly with a small sneer. 

Interestingly enough the few times Fenris had been around to see Marian mention going there in front of Anders the abomination had gone very still and then quietly insisted on going there with with her. Justice always seemed to become particularly agitated during those conversations, going from a gentle glow to a rippling shuddering light that flickered with a heavy pulse beneath Anders skin. Invisible to all except Fenris.

He ground his teeth and glared a brief glance around the courtyard from the entrance. Something about the statues flickered against a memory but he pushed it aside. He had avoided coming on any of these little endeavors to the Gallows for years now. He didn’t need to see this. He remembered the circles in Tevinter perfectly well. Stately halls dripping with gold from every fixture, silk and gold thread tapestries on the walls showing detailed images of mages casting magic, and plush rugs that you sank into when walking across. If you’ve seen one circle you’ve seen them all-

_-CRACK!_

Fenris froze. 

Someone was using a whip. 

_CRACK!_

For a brief moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe_. Just stood at the entrance to the Gallows courtyard with vacant wide eyes. As his heart raced he tried to tell himself he wasn’t in Tevinter. He hadn’t been in Tevinter for years, but he knew that noise. He _knew_ that noise.

_CRACK!_

First would come the pain. _Pain pain **pain**_. And then Hadriana’s nauseatingly efficient hands would smear a healing salve. If Fenris’ wounds were particularly bad then someone would use a healing spell. But usually it was a salve. Couldn’t let the priceless experiment carry scars across those perfect lyrium lines.

“Fenris?”

He didn’t shake. Too many years had beaten into him the idea that if he showed any outward appearance of fear (or anger or pain) that the punishment would be made that much worse. He took a shuddering breath and told himself again and again and _again_ that he wasn’t in Tevinter, but everything else sounded so far away.

“Fenris?”

That noise was the reason why he had avoided horses while on the run. Granted not all stablehands used whips, but even the sight of one had a tendency to set him off sometimes. He could move fairly quickly on his own, and really, no horse meant there were no hoof prints to cover up. For that matter climbing trees -if you were careful- could be remarkably useful when trying to throw someone off your trail.

He was suddenly aware of a woman’s hand on his shoulder. **No.** _Never again._

“Fenris, please, are you alright?-”

“-Get your hands off me!” He snarled and jerked backwards, eyes wild and darting around, before he suddenly realizing it was just Marian. 

He was still standing in the entrance to the Gallows courtyard, and hadn't been in Minrathous for years now. Several of the merchants and customers close by stared for a bit before turning back to their stalls. Marian and Isabela and Anders all watched him with varying degrees of worry, Marian in particular had her hands up in a placating gesture and stared at him a bit owlishly. Fenris took a deep shuddering breath and avoided looking at anyone before mumbling, “I… apologize for my outburst.”

“What in Andraste’s name was that all about?” Said Cullen who was standing next to Fenris now. He hadn't even noticed the templar walk up to them. 

Fenris allowed his expression to go neutral and looked at the templar with what he hoped was a disinterested expression. “My mind was playing tricks on me. I thought I heard a whip being used.” Out of the corner of his eye Fenris saw Anders look at him for a long moment before looking away again. 

“You did.” Cullen said blandly.

“I… what.”

Cullen tilted his head to the side and studied Fenris before nodding to one of the far corners, “Mages that earn a whipping are taken outside to receive punishment.” he said very matter of factly.

Fenris couldn’t quite process what he was hearing for a moment. He looked to where Cullen had gestured and saw a very young elf -a _child_\- in chains being lead back inside, her back was a raw and bloody mess. Fenris felt his gut start to churn. “Outside?” he said numbly.

The templar grimaced, “Leaves quite a mess on the flagstones, I know. But as often as it rains it’s just so much more efficient to do it outside so the rain can clean it up rather than constantly having a templar or two on mop up duty.”

There was a roaring in Fenris’ ears, he found his eyes back on Anders. The mage was looking down not making eye contact with anyone. He was breathing fast but quietly, his face was carefully blank, and his hands gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles had all turned white. Justice’s light roiled like a storm thrashing beneath his skin -and again, the light was invisible to all except Fenris. 

The templar turned his attention on Marian with a predatory smile and proceeded to attempt to flirt with her. Or rather, flirt _at_ her seeing how she didn’t give any indication that the advances were at all welcome. Cullen didn’t seem to notice (or possibly didn’t care) that Marian’s polite smile had a pinned on quality to it. Isabela’s lips thinned to a line as she watched the man continue to make unwelcomed passes at her lover. Isabela shifted closer to her, going so far as to throw her arm around Marian’s waist pointedly. Again Cullen either didn’t notice or refused to take the hint. 

It was about then that Fenris finally noticed the statues. 

Really noticed them. 

They depicted slaves. 

He looked around and suddenly noticed the shape of the buildings. This was an old housing pen for slaves from the days of the old Imperium he realized dazedly. Fenris’ hands started to shake. He knew that Kirkwall had been part of the Imperium once upon a time, but he had always assumed things like the slave pens would have been destroyed or dismantled. “I think I am needed elsewhere.” Fenris croaked.

Cullen turned back to him, “Oh. Yes,” he chuckled, cast what he probably thought was a charming smile at Marian and rubbed a gloved hand against his neck sheepishly, “I have duties to perform as well, I-” he paused and squinted at Anders, “I’m sorry but you look very familiar, have we met?”

Anders gave a small weak smile and shrugged, “I just have one of those faces, sorry.” When Fenris noticed the trembling to Anders’ hands had gotten worse, he felt like something snapped in his mind. Fenris turned around and managed to make it the few steps back outside again.

Fenris wanted revenge for everything that had been done to him. He wanted vengeance. He wanted _**justice.**_

But not like this. 

_Never_ like this. 

He had just enough time to steady himself against the wall before he started vomiting.

Which was how Anders found him a few minutes later once Cullen finally left. By that point Fenris had lost all of his breakfast against the wall outside the Gallows but his stomach continued to heave and twist on emptiness and bile. 

The mage started to reach out a hand before pausing and pulling back. He twisted his hands together instead. “I’d offer… I can’t ah… ” He chewed on his lip nervously before glancing around and saying quietly, “I can’t offer to… considering, ah… _you know_, but I always keep a spare healing potion on hand. Just in case. It should settle your stomach. If you… If you want.” Anders trailed off again at that and kept glancing around to make sure they were out of earshot.

Fenris shuddered and managed a small short nod. Anders pressed a small glass bottle into his palm a moment later, when he fumbled trying to get it open -his hands were shaking too hard to get a grip- Anders took it back and popped the cork for him. 

Anders passed the bottle back again and said wryly, “Drink slowly. It should settle your stomach but you have to get it down and _keep_ it down first.”

Fenris glared at him but it held little heat. He took a very small sip and leaned slightly forward to rest his head against the stone wall with a sigh.

After that things started to shift between Fenris and Anders and Justice.

Nothing big. 

Not at first. 

Anders still talked about the state of mages in Kirkwall, but he didn’t try to force Fenris into the conversation anymore. Or Anders would go to make a comment to one of their friends about things he had seen templars do to mages and out of habit Fenris would open his mouth to say a biting comment, and… And then he’d find himself closing his mouth again. Old habits may die hard, but the image of the little girl in chains had begun to haunt his nightmares. 

Those weren’t the only nightmares, horrifying as that had been. There had been others. Nightmares of reasons why Anders’ hands always started to shake whenever a templar got close to their group. That he was dreaming of Anders at all in any pretence was odd. But he had also started to have dreams about _rescuing_ Anders. It made Fenris jittery. 

Sometimes, and he would never willingly admit this out loud, sometimes the dreams with Anders didn’t end with the rescue. 

Sometimes the dreams went further on and ended with the two of them smiling at each other. In the dreams Anders would give Fenris this golden happy smile. A smile he’d only ever seen directed at their friends, and rarely at that. Fenris’ heart would start to beat fast as Anders would lean in close and brush the hair away from his face. They each would lean in even closer to each other, making Fenris’ heart pound faster and faster. …And then he’d wake up vaguely disappointed that it stopped too early, and then become _mortified_ that he was disappointed that there wasn’t a kiss. 

A month into Fenris’ self imposed silence Varric pulled him aside after a job. “I’m gonna have to skip out on cards with you and Donnic tomorrow night. Merchants guild has been sending threats if I skip this one. Threats of the ‘the carta will bring you back in pieces’ variety. Almost makes me wish Bartrand was still around.” He gave a small laugh at that but there was an edge to it. He shook his head. “Anyway, figured I should let you know in case you want to cancel. Not as much fun with just two people and all that.” 

Fenris opened his mouth to agree but paused as an idea occurred to him. “Actually I was considering… inviting another to join us.”

Varric gave him a blank stare for a moment before he smiled and holstered Bianca. “Well, broody, I have to say I’m proud of you. Being social and all. Who’s the lucky person you want to invite? And by invite I of course mean you’re probably going to corner them against a wall and glare at them till they say yes.”

Fenris glared at Varric and sheathed his sword. “You’re not funny.”

Varric grinned. “I have a publisher and a long list of fans who would disagree with that statement.” He waved a hand, “But all jokes aside who did you want to invite?”

“I was thinking about inviting Anders.”

Varric’s expression went blank and he was silent again for a long pause before he gave a forced sounding laugh, “For a second there I thought I heard you say Anders.”

Fenris wasn’t sure if he felt more annoyed or uncomfortable, he folded his arms and settled on annoyed. “I **did** say Anders.”

Varric blew out a breath as his face became serious. “Listen. I know the two of you don’t exactly get along but if this is your attempt to get him alone so you can murder him-”

-“I would never!” Fenris sputtered.

Varric rolled his eyes. _“Riiight. Suuure.”_ He gave Fenris his own glare before going on. “Look. Marian **dotes** on him like he’s family, and that word really means something to her. Honestly if I didn’t already know she’s a lesbian I’d assume she was in love with him. If you kill him it’ll break her heart and she will _**never**_ forgive you. Period. For that matter **I** don’t want to see him get hurt either, he’s a good friend.” He sighed and looked away. “Both of you are actually, and it’s kind of a pain in the neck seeing two people I really like not getting along.” 

They both watched as Isabela and Marian continued looting the dead bandits for a few moments before Varric spoke up again. “What are you playing at, Fenris?”

What _was_ he playing at? Fenris still wasn’t sure exactly where he wanted all of this to go. The almost-kissing-dreams came to mind rather quickly and he pushed them aside just as fast. He thought if he was more like Varric he would probably wax poetic about wiping the slate clean and starting fresh. But that wasn’t a fair way to approach things. Some of what he had said to Anders was truly awful. You can’t build new bridges on rotted wood, and if he really wanted to try and patch things up with Anders that meant talking to him.

Varric was used to getting long thoughtful silences from the elf so he pulled out a pocket knife and an apple and began to cut off slices to eat while they waited for the rest of their group. Fenris watched him eat two slices before he finally had the words he was looking for. “To be perfectly frank I don’t know where this is going either.”

Varric made a hm noise at that and offered him the next slice of apple. “And you promise you’re not planning on killing him?” He looked Fenris in the eye while he asked that, and kept watching as though he could read through any lie he might try to tell. Maybe Varric could. He was crafty enough for it.

Fenris took the apple slice and rolled his eyes before saying curtly, “I promise I don’t currently have any such plans.” He shoved the entire apple slice into his mouth with a glare and crossed his arms.

Varric sighed, “Well. Close enough I guess. Just… remember what I said.”

Fenris went to the clinic the next day around lunch time which for once happened to be quiet -at least for the moment at any rate. Which, of course, meant the mage and spirit were busy writing their _manifesto_. Anders had tried to give him a copy of it exactly once; Fenris had torn it to shreds and thrown it into a refuse bin. A guilty flush went across his cheeks at the memory. He took another moment to compose himself, and then cleared his throat as he knocked on the frame of the open door before he stepped all the way inside. 

Anders looked up from his desk where he was writing and his brows immediately knitted together in a worried frown as soon as he saw Fenris. “Who’s been hurt?!” He said in a rush as he lurched to his feet and dropped the quill, splattering ink over the desk. 

Fenris opened his mouth but no words came to him, he felt heat crawl across his face, closed his mouth and tried again. “No one, mage. I came to talk.” 

The frantic energy drained out of Anders’ shoulders only to be replaced with a cautious tension instead. He tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow, “You came to …talk?” Justice’s light flickered.

Fenris looked away as he felt his ears flick with nerves and rubbed one hand over his other arm. “Yes. To talk.” Anders didn’t say anything at that and just continued to stare with one eyebrow still raised. Fenris felt his lips thin with familiar annoyance and took a deep calming breath. “May I sit down?”

Anders gestured to a cot and they each sat on opposite ends of it.

“Listen. I think I know why you’re here.”

“You do?” Fenris looked at him startled.

Anders’ lips thinned into a grim line before he nodded. “I’ve had lots of people come in for it. It’s… not fun to talk about, but it happens.”

Fenris’ ears drooped as he imagined Anders having to listen to other people who also didn’t believe him at first about the Gallows. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Oh.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause before Anders sighed and said, “Yeah.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t tell her I told you but Isabela used to come in for it once a month until she started dating Merrill and Hawke. So like I said. It happens.”

“I… What?”

Anders let out a small laugh but still wouldn’t look at Fenris, “Yeah well. I think being in a ‘steady’ relationship with them got her to slow down a bit. Or maybe it really is serious, who knows what goes through Isabela’s mind?” Justice’s light gave a rapid annoyed looking flash before settling again and a strange look crossed over Anders face. “Okay, right. Fuck. _Fuck_.” Anders hid his face in his hands for a moment before he continued. “I shouldn’t have told you about Isabela’s issues. Sometimes I forget to stop talking and I- Look. I just wanted you to know that it happens to all kinds of people and that you shouldn’t be afraid to ask for help. Especially if it has to do with your safety. Also please don’t tell her I told you.”

Fenris stared for a moment before again saying, “What?”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose and started gesturing with a hand while his voice took on a slightly harried tone of voice. “Listen, if this has something to do with a rash showing up after you, ah… _visited_ the blooming rose -or whoever- can you just get this over with and tell me? Because lots of people come in for that so I have extra ointment stocked up on my shelf over there. You don’t even need to say it out loud, just nod once and I’ll grab it for you and we can pretend this whole conversation never happened.”

“You think I have a _venereal_ disease?” There was a small moment where Fenris teetered between being annoyed or laughing. A snort escaped and he accidentally startled both of them into laughter. “I… no. No I came to invite you to play cards at the manor.” He fidgeted “…And to apologize.”

That got another laugh out of Anders. “Right sure, apologi-” He stopped and squinted at Fenris. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

Fenris sighed through his nose and looked away. “You have to understand. My experiences have been limited. More so because I don’t remember anything from before I received these… _markings_. And then also limited by being in a strange country that I am still adjusting to.” His stomach started to churn again, but he needed to say the next part. “Seeing the gallows for myself was an eye opener. I am sorry I did not listen when you tried to tell me. …I have been unkind.” 

They were both silent for a long stretch of time. When Anders remained silent Fenris finally risked a glance at him. The mage’s face was carefully blank -much the way it went when he needed to go unnoticed by templars- but beneath his skin Justice’s light was …spinning? _Fasta vass_, what did _that_ reaction mean? 

Anders stood up abruptly and started tidying up the cupboard across from them while avoiding looking at Fenris. “Mage?”

Anders flinched and stopped rearranging the potion bottles just as abruptly as he’d started but he still kept his back to Fenris. He took a deep shuddering breath and said quietly, “I tried to talk to you, you know. Quite a few times actually.”

Fenris winced and said, “I know. I… There is a very old saying amongst the slaves in Tevinter; ‘Never trust a chantry official, a politician, or a mage. They all lie.’” Fenris paused for a moment before he smiled weakly and shrugged, “It sounds better in teven. It rhymes.”

Anders gave a choked sounding laugh at that, “Yes, translating languages can be funny like that sometimes.” He gave a shaky sigh and leaned his head against a shelf, “Why… What do you want, Fenris?”

“I’d like to start over.”

Anders finally turned around to look at him, his expression still carefully guarded. “Why?”

Fenris was quiet for a moment as he put his words together and then steeled himself for a possible rejection. “It occurs to me that the version of you I built up inside my head never existed and that despite working together for a few years now I don’t really know you. I’d like to fix that, if you are willing to give me that chance.”

Anders slowly gave a small crooked smile and some of the tension seemed to finally melt out of his shoulders. “Alright.” Justice’s light gave a small flicker with some barely there pops. “Maker knows I haven’t been very understanding about how I handled things either.” He smiled ruefully and sighed. “Chances are with my luck this will all blow up in my face regardless, but, yes, I’d like another chance at knowing you too.”

Fenris found himself smiling back at him. “You do seem to have a knack for bad luck, but perhaps Diamondback will hold differently. Are you free tonight?”


End file.
